


What Meets the Eye (and What Does Not)

by thelobster_29



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: AU, Background Asher Millstone/Bonnie Winterbottom, Gen, M/M, Oliver Hampton/Spatula Guy, Spatula Guy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelobster_29/pseuds/thelobster_29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has a new next-door neighbor. At first sight, Asher seems to be nothing more than an irritating douche bag, but between forgotten keys, broken routers and movie marathons, the two of them become genuine friends. Connor is not amused when he finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [finders keepers, will you keep me in mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525899) by [tiny_dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_dragon/pseuds/tiny_dragon). 



> I wrote most of this during the hiatus between the first two seasons back in spring. So the Asher we meet here is S1!Asher - highly energetic, completely inappropriate most of the time, but with a heart of gold regardless. I don't like what they've done with him this season so far, so there will be no Trotter Lake storyline anywhere here.
> 
> I want to thank my wonderful beta readers Fanny, Vicy and [Moni](http://monicashipscoliver.tumblr.com). I would never have been able to finish and edit this without your constant help and support and we all know it.

 

 

The new neighbor moved in on a Tuesday in August. When Oliver came home that evening after a long day at work, he noticed the unfamiliar doormat in front of apartment 302.

Unlocking his front door, Oliver wondered whether he should bake a cake as a house-warming gift. In his small hometown in Indiana, neighbors had always been welcomed with open arms by the settled residents. However, only a few of these traditions applied to a city as large, fast-paced and anonymous as Philadelphia. Oliver didn’t want to come across as a creep.

His musings were harshly interrupted when he stumbled over a pair of shoes still lying around in the hallway. The weather was unusually cold for late summer, and Oliver had changed his mind about the correct footwear in the last minute that morning. Grabbing onto the shoe closet to break the fall, he found his balance again and straightened his glasses.

By the time the shoes were neatly tucked away, all thoughts about the new neighbor were completely forgotten.

 

 ~~~

 

Oliver sighed in relief when the entrance door to his building shut with a resounding bang. He’d survived another night out with his co-workers, thank god.

Determined to end his single life, they had taken to dragging him into random bars once a week. Nothing had come of it yet, as Oliver had predicted from the very beginning. He was shy enough around strangers as it was. Feeling the eyes of his co-workers on his back while he tried to flirt with guys more attractive and interesting than him didn’t help. Oliver ran a hand through his hair tiredly while passing the wall of letter boxes. He just wanted to get into bed and forget about his non-existing love life.

He joined the couple already waiting in front of the elevator. The stench of alcohol was unmistakable. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he glanced at the strangers. The girl’s makeup was smudged, her hair a mess and her top had shifted off her shoulder, revealing a pink bra strap.

Her companion didn’t look much better. Shirt hanging out, tie awry and jacket nowhere to be seen, he held himself up against the wall, eyes hungrily travelling up and down the girl’s body.

“So.” He gestured down to his crotch. “Wanna meet the elephant trunk? ‘m fine with Millstone meatsicle , too,” he slurred.

Oliver snorted at the same time the girl started cackling. Dragging his eyes away from her, the man focused on Oliver for the first time. “Hey, bro!” he said too loudly. “Haven’t seen you –“

The girl toppled into the stranger, nearly bringing both of them down. “Oops,” she giggled while straightening up. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no, don’t be,” her companion whined and pulled her closer.

Trying to ignore the loud slurping noises as the couple started to make out, Oliver squirmed in embarrassment. Maybe he should take the stairs instead.

He wished he’d done just that after the elevator had finally arrived. The drunken couple, still tightly pressed together, was crowding him into a corner now. Smelling sweat under the alcohol, Oliver closed his eyes and started to enumerate prime numbers as a distraction.

“Ow!” he exclaimed as pain seared through his right foot.

Blinking slowly, the man looked up. “Did I… step on your toes?” he asked blearily. “Keep forgettin’ you’re there, man.”

At that moment the chime announcing their arrival on the third floor resounded. Mortified and without answering, Oliver darted into the hallway. He could still hear the girl’s shrieking laughter when he closed his apartment door.

 

~~~

 

Unlocking his front door a few days later, Oliver saw the man from the other night step out of apartment 302. He had barely enough time to make the connection before the man in question had spotted him.

“Hi! I’m Asher. I moved here just a week ago,” he introduced himself brightly.

He seemed friendly and open enough now he wasn’t wasted. Relieved Asher hadn’t recognized him, he returned the smile.

“Oliver. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Nice to meet you, yo.” Raising his fist, Asher watched him expectantly.

Staring at the hand hovering in the air between them, Oliver’s eyes widened in disbelief. Did he want a fist bump? Maybe he _was_ just as crazy sober as drunk.

“Wait,” Asher said suddenly and, squinting, put his hand on his hip. “Are you the guy from the elevator?”

“Um. Yes.” Touching the back of his neck uncomfortably, he looked at the floor to Asher’s left. Never cheer too soon.

Asher burst into laughter. “I was hammered, man. Hardly remember anything I said.”

Lucky you, Oliver thought, but let out a relieved breath.

“She was freakin’ hot, right? I love Philly already if all the girls here look like her, man. I totally rocked her world. You should’ve seen me charm her pants off with my amazing dance moves.”

Asher shimmied his ass back and forth in demonstration. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“And the sex was amazing.” Sighing, he stared into the distance dreamily. “The things that girl could do with her tongue, I tell you -”

“Thanks! That’s enough information for me,” Oliver interrupted forcefully and turned away to end this conversation and enter the sanctuary of his own apartment. Asher didn’t get the hint.

“What’s the matter? Jealous because the ladies can’t resist me?”

Eyes darting back to Asher, Oliver bit back a snort. “No. Definitely not.”

“I bet you are! Do you need help picking up women?” Asher’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh god, what had he gotten himself into?

“No,” Oliver repeated. “I already told you –“

“You have to get rid of the glasses first, yo.” Completely ignoring his protests, Asher’s gaze was travelling up and down Oliver’s body in renewed interest. “The suit is fine, I guess, but have you ever tried skinny jeans? The ladies dig that. And what about –“

“Will you stop this?” Oliver interrupted loudly, exasperation bleeding into his voice at last.

Startled, Asher shut his mouth immediately.

“I don’t need dating advice.” At least not from you. “And I have to make an important phone call now,” he lied, “so if you’ll excuse me.”

Asher didn’t look convinced. “Whatever, man. We’ll finish this discussion another time.” Winking obnoxiously, he nudged Oliver’s shoulder in passing. “See you around, Ollie.”

Oliver winced. He hated that nickname.

Watching Asher disappear into the elevator, he shook his head in bewilderment. Was this guy for real? Good thing he hadn’t made a cake last week after all. His new neighbor, Oliver knew for sure now, was a total douche.

 

~~~

 

Oliver had just sat back down at his desk under the window when a new song started playing in Asher’s apartment. It was just as loud, nerve-wracking and _stupid_ as the one before. Taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose, Oliver stared at his notebook tiredly. He needed to finish this line of code or his boss would kill him tomorrow. How wonderful Asher had chosen that evening to entertain the whole building with hip hop music.

Oliver could always go over and ask him nicely to turn the music down. He doubted his neighbor would care, though. Maybe the earplugs he’d bought a while ago were still lying around somewhere? He got up to check in his bathroom cabinet. The first thing tumbling out of the crammed cupboard weren’t earplugs but the box of condoms he’d needed with Connor a few days ago.

His heart sped up at the memory. Confident, funny and gorgeous Connor. Oliver had enjoyed his attention and their night together for what they were: a one-time thing. Connor had only shown interest in him to get some emails he needed for work, so Oliver would probably never see him again. Deciding he’d thrown the earplugs away, he closed the cabinet and tried to ignore the lump of disappointment in his throat. He had known from the beginning Connor was way out of his league, but he’d allowed himself to dream anyway.

The volume next door was turned up another notch. Oliver glared at the wall separating his apartment from Asher’s. Trying couldn’t hurt, right? Fetching his glasses and keys, he made his way over.

Asher answered the door after the third ring. Judging from the broad smile on his face, he didn’t notice Oliver’s sour expression at all.

“Ollie! How are you?”

Reminding himself he _did_ have a right to silence at midnight on a Monday, Oliver stated with as much determination as possible, “Your music is way too loud. I have a deadline for tomorrow morning, but it’s impossible to work like this.”

Asher’s whole face fell. “Shit. I didn’t know the walls were this thin. I’ll turn it down, yo.”

“Oh?” Oliver asked in surprise. That was far easier than expected.

“Of course.”

“I’m fine with a little noise on the weekends, you know, but –“

“No, I get it, man. And I usually don’t do this, it’s just – I got a job today!” he burst out suddenly and yanked his arms up in triumph.

Oliver fought the instinct to take a step back as a safety measure.

“I’ll work with my professor,” Asher prattled on, “and the competition was tough, but I freakin’ did it.” He puffed his chest out in pride.

Taking in his enthusiasm, Oliver’s frown softened into a crooked smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I feel _awesome_ right now. But I’ll stop celebrating so you can get back to work,” he added seriously.

The music was already turned off when Oliver closed his own apartment door. He reveled in the silence for a minute before brewing himself another cup of coffee.

 

~~~

 

Sorting through his keys to find the one for his mailbox, Oliver crossed the entrance hall of his apartment building. He looked up when he noticed voices.

Asher and Mrs. Gardiner were standing in front of the wall of letter boxes. They made quite an odd couple. Asher, suit and tie impeccable, was leafing through a stack of letters and talking to Mrs. Gardiner in a low voice. Leaning on two turquoise crutches, the old lady listened attentively. The crutches clashed horribly with her orange leggings and red backpack. Her long grey hair was as bushy as ever.

“And, last but not least, holiday greetings from Greece,” Asher handed her a brightly colored postcard.

“Ah yes, from my nephew and his wife. Could you tuck it into my backpack’s front pocket, please?”

“Sure.” Stepping around her to put the post away, Asher spotted him.

“Hey Ollie!”

“Mr. Hampton, how do you do?” Mrs. Gardiner had turned around as well.

Smiling, Oliver stepped closer. “Pretty well, thanks.”

She was his favorite fellow resident. Retired, Mrs. Gardiner spent several afternoons a week in the fitness center around the corner instructing yoga classes. Surprisingly, there was a remarkable amount of drama in her course for senior citizens and Oliver always loved to hear the gossip.

“Any news about the foot?”

She beamed, deep wrinkles forming around her eyes. “Indeed there is. If I’m lucky I’ll get rid of these,” she nodded at her crutches, “tomorrow. About time I can start with physiotherapy, my body has gone all rusty.”

Mrs. Gardiner had stumbled over her cat a month ago and torn one of the ligaments in her ankle. It was still unfamiliar to see her without her usual gym bag and yoga mat.

“Have you met Mr. Millstone here?” Mrs. Gardiner gestured towards Asher. “He’s new.”

“Yes, we live door-to-door,” Oliver said as Asher nodded.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get along splendidly. He’s just as kind as you are.”

Not sure how to respond, Oliver awkwardly cleared his throat. He shot a quick glance at Asher, who pressed his lips together to hide a pleased smile.

“We’ve just run into each other in the grocery store,” Mrs. Gardiner continued. “Handling the shopping cart and the crutches at the same time is always a challenge, so he helped.”

Oliver couldn’t help staring now. Asher did not seem like a guy who helped elderly people get their shopping done.

“He wanted to carry the bags home as well. I refused, of course. That’s what I have this for.” She turned around a bit so Oliver could see the backpack. “Even hobbling around on crutches, I’m not a nursing case yet,” she said firmly.

“Of course not,” Oliver agreed.

Mrs. Gardiner bought all her fruit and vegetables from the farmer’s market, meditated every day and got more exercise than the average person. She was probably much healthier than Oliver despite her age.

After thanking Asher again for his help, she said goodbye and made her way down a corridor on the ground floor. Asher turned to Oliver as soon as she was out of sight.

“Told you I could charm absolutely everyone, yo,” he smirked.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver led the way over to the elevator.

“I see you still haven’t lost the glasses,” Asher commented while they were waiting. “You don’t want the ladies to think you’re a nerd.” He pulled a face.

“I’m a programmer.”

Asher’s mouth fell open and formed a perfect O. “So you _are_ a nerd. This is priceless!”

“If you say so…” Oliver trailed off skeptically. “What do you do?”

He wondered whether dating consultant was a real job as Asher stood up straighter. “First year of law school. Middleton.”

Oliver nearly dropped his keys. Just like Connor. What if they knew each other?

To Oliver’s great surprise, Connor had shown up again with take-out last week and was staying the night regularly now. He was pretty closed off and hardly told anything about himself, so they spent most of their time together having sex and obtaining information that would help Connor at work. Oliver hoped they’d become more given enough time.

“Why are you staring at me?” Asher’s voice pulled Oliver out of his thoughts. There was something defensive in it now. “Surprised I’m smart enough for law school?”

“What? No, not at all.” Maybe a little bit.

Frowning, Asher pursed his lips. “Ah.”

There was a tense silence now that made Oliver squirm uncomfortably. “You can stop giving me dating advice, by the way,” he tried to lighten the mood as soon as they had entered the elevator. “I’m gay.”

Luckily, it worked. Asher’s head whipped around immediately. “What? You too?”

“What do you mean?”

“One of my co-workers is gay, and I only realized it yesterday. Can’t believe I need to work on my gaydar, man. Thought I had that down years ago.”

“If it cheers you up, my parents had no idea I was gay until my coming-out.”

Asher still looked crestfallen, so Oliver patted his shoulder in sympathy.

 

~~~

 

The next time Oliver saw him, Asher was sitting on the floor between their apartment doors one afternoon in late October. Legs drawn to his chest, elbows propped on his knees and face lying in his hands, he looked small and forlorn. Dropping his bag, Oliver kneeled down next to him.

“Are you okay?” Startled, Asher looked up. “You look terrible.”

He did. His hair was messed up and there were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes.

“Thanks,” Asher replied sarcastically, but there was no bite behind it. “I forgot my freakin’ keys. I rang your bell first, but you weren’t home. Mrs. Gardiner let me into the building, but had to leave for physiotherapy after that.”

“Have you called the locksmith?”

Flipping imaginary lint off his trousers, Asher nodded. “On his way, yo.”

Something felt off about this, Oliver decided. Sure, forgetting your keys was annoying, but Asher looked devastated. Standing up, he stretched out a hand for him.

“Why don’t we wait together until they arrive? I have beer.”

“No thanks, man. I’m sure you have something else to do,” Asher waved him off.

Oliver scoffed. The only things on his to-do list were doing the laundry and trying to forget Connor had cheated on him with a complete stranger. “I promise that can wait.”

Contemplating him for a few seconds, Asher grabbed the offered hand and got up. Five minutes later they were sitting on Oliver’s couch, two uncapped bottles of beer in front of them.

“So… You seem to be having an awful week,” Oliver prompted carefully.

Sighing, Asher crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah, you could say that. We have an appeal case at work right now. They almost killed an innocent man today for supposedly shooting his girlfriend, but we got him off.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Oliver asked after a moment of silence.

Asher leaned back against the backrest, closed his eyes and answered in a raspy voice, “Of course. Thing is, he only got sentenced to death in the first place because my—” Rubbing a hand over his face, he cut himself off. “Because _someone_ I know messed up big time in the first trial. If he hadn’t this would never have gone so far. And I can’t – I can’t believe he did that. How could he do that? He never lies. Never. Everyone knows that. Everyone _values_ him for that.”

Staring at a spot on the wall above the TV set now, Asher became more agitated by the second. Oliver didn’t dare interrupt and took another swig of beer instead.

“He knew about the set-up. I know he did, even asked him myself. How fucked up is that? My father, the mighty judge William Millstone, threw an innocent man under the bus for a promotion. What am I supposed to—”

Stopping again, Asher looked at Oliver in horror. “Tell me I did not just say that. Oh god, no. Everyone’s right, I’m an _idiot_ –” He got up and backed away.

Putting his bottle next to Asher’s untouched one, Oliver stood up as well and approached him slowly.

“Hey, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Turning away, Asher huffed. “Right.”

“No, think about it,” Oliver tried to reason. “I don’t know any details and I don’t have any proof, so no one would believe me.”

Asher still didn’t meet his eye.

“Why would I want to bring down your father? I don’t know him at all, I hardly even know _you_.”

After few moments of silence, Asher deflated. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess.” Looking even more miserable than before, he sat back down and drew a hand through his hair.

“You know what the worst part is?”

Oliver shook his head.

”My stupid co-workers. I feel horrible enough about everything, but they have to rub it in my face every chance they get, of course. Michaela with her fancy engagement ring and her fancy fiancé. Connor who thinks he’s better than anyone, just because he has some fuck buddy who does all the work _for_ him. Laurel always –“

Oliver froze. _Connor?_ He had been right, after all, then. Connor and Asher did know each other, they even worked together. Swallowing hard, he stared down at his knees. He’d thrown Connor out more than two weeks ago now. The truth was, and Oliver hated to admit this, he still missed him. Connor was wild and alive, a colorful splotch on a gray canvas, a breath of fresh air. Oliver couldn’t deny spending time with him was exciting. Exciting, but dangerous as well. He had known about Connor’s recklessness from the beginning and should have seen the heartbreak coming.

_Some fuck buddy who does all the work for him._ Oliver bit down on his lip to keep quiet. Sex meant nothing to Connor, it was just a means to get to an end. Why had he been stupid enough to fall for his tricks? Even Connor’s colleagues seemed to know he would never commit to anyone.

Feeling his eyes prick, Oliver clenched his teeth together even harder until he tasted blood. Now was not the time to break down, he told himself sternly. He had to help Asher get through _his_ dreadful day first. His father was a corrupt judge, Oliver had only been cheated on by some guy he barely knew. He forced his concentration back on Asher who was still talking.

“I’m fed up with all of them! I know we’re not exactly friends, but this is getting –” Asher’s cell phone started ringing.

“Lockout services,” he murmured after checking the number and answered.

Looking around for something to do, Oliver grabbed his laptop from a side table to check his emails. He didn’t want to listen in on the conversation. The call, however, was already over before his computer had finished booting.

Oliver watched in silence as Asher fetched his bag from under the couch table and got ready to leave after hanging up. He didn’t seem to expect a reaction to their conversation about his father at all. Why was that?

Tying his shoelaces, Asher said, “Thanks for the beer and letting me rant, Ollie.”

“Any time. I can’t do anything to make it better, but I’m really sorry about your father. If you ever want to talk about this again you know where to find me.”

Oliver saw him falter and frowned. Maybe Asher wasn’t used to people taking him and his problems seriously?

He stood up and nodded slowly. “Thanks, man.”

“Oh, and screw your co-workers,” Oliver added while Asher pulled on his jacket. Looking up from zipping it, he met his gaze and raised one eyebrow.

“No, not in _that_ way!”

Snickering weakly, he left to meet the locksmith downstairs.

Oliver called his mom the next day to ask for the recipe of her chocolate cake. It was too late for house-warming gifts, but Asher probably needed cake now more than ever. And so did Oliver.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://thelobster29.tumblr.com). :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  A huge thank you to Vicy. Your endless patience amazes me. Thanks for putting up with my ramblings and our crazy Skype dates that last for five hours. This would be crap without you.  
> Thank you, Fanny, for coming up with the broken router idea.  
> Thank you, [Moni](http://monicashipscoliver.tumblr.com/), for suggesting I expand the Coliver storyline. The whole story works so much better now.
> 
> Special shoutout to [Jasmine](http://htgawm-tv.tumblr.com/) for listing scenes in which Connor genuinely laughs or smiles pretty much on the spot when I needed it for writing. You're the best!

 

 

“Have you tried –“

“I need a new router,” Oliver interrupted the man on the other end of the phone. “Why can’t you send your people over to install it?”

“I want to make sure we’ve excluded every other possibility before that.”

Oliver scoffed. “I told you I work in IT. It’s the router, believe me.”

“Okay. Please wait a moment while I check when the next appointment is available, Mr. Hampton.” Without waiting for Oliver’s response, the call center agent cut the line. The terrible music was back.

Groaning, Oliver started pacing through his living room again. He had spent the last 20 minutes trying to convince three different customer service assistants the reason his Internet was gone was a broken router.

Oliver turned around. Francis, standing in his kitchen and cooking dinner, met his annoyed look with an amused smile.

With a click the man on the phone was back. “We could send someone on Monday.”

“It’s already Thursday…” Oliver trailed off.

How was he supposed to survive another three days without a working Internet connection? It had barely been 12 hours and he was already losing his mind. What about _work_?

“I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do for you at this time,” the agent replied in a forced neutral tone.

“Fine,” Oliver resigned. “Monday it is. How does this –“

The doorbell rang. Motioning for Francis to go answer it, Oliver went into his bedroom and shut the door behind himself.

He was still in a foul mood when he reappeared five minutes later. “Someone needs to be here all day on Monday. Great. I have a full-time job, I can’t just get a day off.”

“We’ll think of something, babe,” Francis said soothingly. Moving around Oliver to set the table, he squeezed his shoulder in support.

“Hope you’re right,” Oliver sighed. “Who was at the door? Asher?”

“Connor.”

After missing a beat, his heart picked up at twice its normal rate. Francis was watching him attentively.

“What did he want?” Oliver asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“He had flowers, so I guess he came to apologize. I told him to get lost.”

“What if –“

“No, babe.” Putting the last plate on the couch table, Francis crossed the room and came to a halt in front of him. “Remember what we said the night we met?”

Oliver’s co-workers had insisted the best way to forget Connor was a night out and excessive amounts of alcohol. Telling himself things couldn’t get any worse, he’d finally given in last week and met Francis in a bar downtown. It had been hard to find topics for small talk at first. Francis was a fashion photographer and they didn’t seem to have much in common. Luckily, the conversation had become a lot more comfortable after they’d realized they were both trying to get over cheating exes.

“We need to cut them out of our lives for good or we’ll never move on. Connor betrayed your trust, do you really want him back?”

“No, of course not,” Oliver said firmly. Maybe he was trying to convince himself as well as Francis. “But you can’t just blow him off without asking me first. It’s still my decision.”

Frowning, he turned away to pick up the orange juice. He was not a child anymore and free to make his own bad decisions.

“Sorry, babe,” Francis apologized immediately. “I didn’t want to upset you. Just trying to help.”

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver sighed and, putting the juice on the table, sat down to eat.

He didn’t bring up the topic again.

 

~~~

 

“Why don’t you give Asher the key for tomorrow _now_?”

Oliver stopped buttoning up his coat and looked at Francis. “What do you mean?” he asked evasively, stalling for time.

“We don’t know when we’ll be back tonight, but we’re early now. Why not hand the key over on our way out?”

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess…”

Oliver didn’t want Asher and Francis to meet. Asher would make one crude comment after the other if he saw them together and he could really do without that at the moment. Francis, on the other hand, would probably remain as polite as ever, but silently judge Asher anyway.

Unfortunately, Oliver couldn’t argue with his logic at all. Gritting his teeth, he decided to get this over with.

Sure enough, Asher’s gaze fell on Francis the moment he opened his apartment door. Eyeing him up and down, he whistled appreciatively. “Who the hell is _this_?”

“Um.” Oliver nervously pushed his glasses up his nose. “This is Francis. Francis, meet Asher.”

Asher gave a small wave.

Nodding once, Francis said, “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Please tell me you guys are screwing.”

Damn it, couldn’t Asher keep his mouth shut one single time? Breaking eye contact, Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. The skin beneath his fingertips was heating up.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Francis answered smoothly.

“Yeah, it is! I’ve been trying to give Ollie a makeover for ages. Well, looks like you don’t need help getting laid after all.” He smirked. “Wait, are you _blushing_ , Ollie?”

“We really don’t have much time,” Oliver said loudly and thrust his spare key into Asher’s hand. “Here. They said they’ll come between 8 am and 6 pm.”

“As precise as always, yo.”

“Did you expect anything else?” Rolling his eyes, Oliver felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Like I texted you, I’ll be home at 4.”

“No need to hurry, man. I’ll sit on your couch the whole day, grinding for my exams.”

Francis cleared his throat. “We have to leave now or we’ll be late, babe.”

“Right.” Oliver smiled at Asher. “See you tomorrow.”

Francis was already halfway down the corridor when Asher’s eyes caught Oliver’s again. Pulling a disgusted face, he mouthed _Babe?_ and pretended to gag before closing his door. Snorting, Oliver hurried after Francis.

“What an idiot,” Francis commented dryly in the elevator. “Sure it’s a good idea to give him your key?”

“What do you think he’ll do? Steal my DVD collection?” he asked sharply.

Yes, Asher could be overwhelming when you weren’t used to his antics, but Oliver had thought Francis would trust his judgment.

“Who knows? How well do you know this guy anyway?”

“Well enough to be sure he won’t rob me. He doesn’t need to – his family is filthy rich,” Oliver muttered under his breath.

 

~~~

 

Opening his door, Oliver came face to face with Asher. He had two bags with what looked like take-out containers in his hands.

“Hi _babe_.” He winked. “I’m done with exams and I’ve decided we’re going to watch season one of Game of Thrones to celebrate, yo.”

“Now is not a good time,” Oliver replied exhaustedly and started to close the door.

“Why not? Oh wait – is your boyfriend home? Am I _interrupting_ something?” His face split into a wolfish grin, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

“No, nothing like that.“

Squinting, Asher tilted his head to one side. “You okay, man?” he asked in a much more serious tone.

Oliver’s shoulder slumped. “Francis dumped me.”

“I’m definitely coming in then.”

Before Oliver could utter a single word, Asher had stepped over the threshold, walked across the living room and put the take-out on the kitchen counter. Oliver didn’t feel the strength to protest, so he simply closed the door. Who knew? Maybe Asher would be able to cheer him up.

Meanwhile, the man in question had found two bottles of beer in his fridge. Nodding to the couch, he put them down on the coffee table.

“Spill,” he said once Oliver had taken a seat next to him.

Not knowing where to start, Oliver said the first thing that came to his mind. “I shouldn’t even be upset about it, you know? We weren’t madly in love or anything, just using each other to get over our exes. I think I didn’t even like him that much.”

“Perfect choice,” Asher interrupted.

Oliver raised his eyebrows in question.

“I bet he was a great distraction. I mean, did you see those biceps? Spectacular.”

Smiling weakly, he nodded. That had been one of his favorite things about Francis’ physique as well. “His arms were nice.”

“So, how did the two of you break up?

Oliver took a sip of beer. “His ex texted him this morning and begged for a second chance. He was gone ten minutes later.”

“Just like that? Are you kidding me?” Asher sounded incredulous.

“Nope.”

Oliver didn’t blame Francis for choosing his ex over him. Who knew what would have happened if Oliver had opened the door that night instead of Francis? Connor with flowers… Oliver tried to convince himself he would’ve done what was best for him and refused to talk to Connor. He would never know for sure.

He resented Francis’ double standard though. He had decided Oliver was not to see Connor again, but needed nearly no prompting at all to go back to his own ex? What a hypocrite. There was no reason to shed tears over him. None at all. At least, that was what Oliver had told himself over and over again. It wasn’t working.

“Here’s the thing, Ollie,” Asher said determinedly. “Clearly, Mr. Biceps is an asshole and doesn’t –“

“- deserve me,” Oliver finished the sentence and sighed. “Yeah, I know. I think I just need today to wallow in misery. I’ll move on tomorrow. Two break-ups in five weeks, that’s probably some kind of record,” Oliver said sadly while picking at a small hole in the hem of his shirt.

“No, it’s not.” Fluffing up a throw pillow, Asher made himself comfortable. His expression turned dreamy.

“There was this gorgeous girl in elementary school. Harper Rosenbaum. I was head over heels for her the moment we met and we got together two weeks later. It was heaven, yo. Nine-year-old me could hardly stand all the excitement. But then she held hands with Tommy Brightley behind the tool shed three days later and broke my heart. To get revenge I kissed Cathy… What was her name again?”

Oliver snorted.

“What?” Asher asked indignantly.

“You’re trying to make me feel better with a story about elementary school?”

Pointing at him, Asher said wisely, “Never underestimate young love, yo. Anyway, I ended up with four break-ups in ten days. Can’t beat that, can you?”

Oliver shook his head.

“Told you so.” Asher took a proud sip.

After sitting in companionable silence for a few moments, he spoke up again. “Want to talk about the guy before Francis?”

Oliver squirmed in his seat. Asher was his friend, but he was still afraid to become the laughing stock of him and everyone else in that lawyer’s house. He had only been one of Connor’s fuck buddies after all, he recalled bitterly.

“No. He cheated on me, it was horrible and I just want to forget about him.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

Oliver smiled sadly. “Not your fault.”

Asher, for once, seemed content to let it go. Standing up, he removed one case from Oliver’s DVD shelf and started waving it around. “We’re going to watch Game of Thrones now.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “How do you even know I own this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Please. I was stuck here for a whole day, of course I’ve gone through your books and DVDs. You would’ve done the same.”

He did have a point. “Hm. And you’re telling me you haven’t watched this yet?”

“No, man. Always missed it until now. The plot is supposed to be awesome though.”

“Right,” Oliver snorted. “You only want to ogle boobs, admit it.”

“May be part of it,” he grinned while grabbing the take-out containers from the kitchen counter.

 

Four hours later, Asher was standing in the hallway, about to return to his own apartment. “How do you like our Rainbow Coalition? Made you feel better, right?”

“Rainbow Coalition?”

“Yeah, that’s totally what we’ve got going on here!” Asher beamed. “Our secret greeting…” He frowned in concentration for a few seconds before suddenly jumping up and down excitedly. “Our _secret greeting_ will be fist bumps, yo!”

“Not a chance.”

Asher deflated. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on, man!”

“Not gonna happen,” Oliver teased in a sing-song voice.

“Fine,” Asher pouted. “If you want to be that way.”

They watched the complete first season that week. Asher came around every single day until Oliver departed for Indiana to spend Christmas with his family. He couldn’t remember laughing that much in a long time.

 

~~~

 

Connor was standing in his doorway.

Oliver’s gaze travelled up the gray coat, chiseled jawline and piercing eyes he hadn’t seen in weeks. Swallowing once, he tried to find purchase on the nearest available surface, happened to find the doorknob and grabbed it tightly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked evenly although his knees felt like jelly.

“I –“ Stepping from foot to foot, Connor cleared his throat. “I have a Christmas present for you. It’s a hat, my grandma made it.” He held out a clumsily wrapped parcel in Oliver’s direction.

Not making a single move to accept it, Oliver squared his shoulders. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“Talk?” Connor suggested carefully. “I’m sorry I screwed up. Won’t happen a second time, I promise.” His voice grew weaker with every word and Oliver nearly didn’t catch the end of the sentence at all.

He laughed dryly. “Sure. That’s what you say now. And how long until you get bored with me again?”

“I don’t think you’re boring, I –“

“I’m not a doormat you can just walk all over. I’m not letting you. Not again.” Not waiting for an answer, Oliver shut the door with a dreadful finality.

He took a deep breath, turned around and leaned his back against the cold wood. The silence was deafening. The suitcase he’d been unpacking before Connor had shown up was still lying abandoned on the floor. It turned blurry. Angry at himself, Oliver wiped his eyes forcefully.

He knew he’d made the right decision. Getting involved with Connor again would only lead to more disappointment. This was for the best. Closing his eyes at the unpleasant twist in his gut, Oliver asked himself why he couldn’t convince his stupid heart.

 

~~~

 

After the Christmas holidays Movie Monday became Oliver and Asher’s thing. Asher had started his second semester and his schedule had gotten much busier again, so they cut the movie nights down to once a week.

Oliver was sitting on Asher’s couch on one of those evenings.

His apartment was surprisingly tidy and organized. Too tidy. No used glasses on the kitchen counter, no knick-knacks on the shelves and no bills waiting to be filed on the coffee table. A neat stack of thick textbooks sat on the desk in the corner. It was obvious Asher didn’t spend much time here. Most of his life took place in lecture halls and Annalise’s house, Oliver knew.

The only personal item he had spotted so far was a photo of Asher and what had to be his dad on the window sill. Asher had spent his Christmas break alone in Philadelphia, so he probably still hadn’t reconciled with his father. Afraid to upset him, Oliver hadn’t broached the subject yet.

“Watching Connor is freakin’ depressing,” Asher said while changing DVDs. “He had to hand over the trophy today and didn’t complain once. Not even a scowl. Michaela says he’s still hung up on Hacker Boy, yo.”

Not knowing how to respond, Oliver looked down at his knees. Asher loved gossiping about his job and had been mentioning Connor more and more lately. Apparently, he hadn’t been acting like himself.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a selfish dick and I kind of enjoyed his suffering at first. About time something doesn’t work out for him, you know? But now it’s getting pathetic.”

Shaking his head absentmindedly, Asher sat back down and took the remote control to navigate through the menu.

Oliver pulled one leg onto the couch and hugged it to his chest. Even _Asher_ had noticed something was up. Should he give Connor a second chance after all, then? Oliver hadn’t let him explain himself at all the other day. Closing his eyes, he suppressed a sigh. Connor had tried to reach out to him not once, but twice now. He’d wanted to bring flowers and a Christmas present. Maybe Oliver had been too harsh?

“Everything okay, bro?” Asher was watching him with narrowed eyes. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“No, I’m fine” Oliver replied and, letting his leg slip back to the ground, sat up straighter. “So.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you think of Littlefinger so far?”

“Who’s that again?”

Once Oliver was back in his own apartment that night, he fetched his phone and unlocked it. Listening to what Connor had to say couldn’t hurt, he decided, and hit the call button with trembling fingers.

 

~~~

 

Oliver barged into the café, nearly toppling over a table near the door in his haste. He was twenty minutes late. Straightening his glasses, he looked around frantically. What if Connor had already left?

Luckily, Oliver spotted him almost immediately at the back of the room. He was half standing at a table in front of the large windows, one hand raised so Oliver would notice him. Making his way over swiftly, Oliver realized Connor looked just as relieved as he felt himself.

“Sorry I’m late. My boss needed help and made me stay longer. Then my phone died, so I couldn’t let you know and I –“

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” Connor fixed a spot over Oliver’s left shoulder and added, “Thought you wouldn’t show up after all.”

“No,” Oliver replied too quickly. “Why would I do that? It’s me who suggested this,” he gestured around them, “in the first place.”

He’d insisted they meet in a public place instead of his apartment. Having Connor back in his living room would have been far too intimate. Yes, he was going to let Connor say his piece this time, but he wouldn’t agree to anything lightheartedly.

They sat down across from each other. An uncomfortable silence settled around them after Oliver had ordered a drip coffee and the waitress had disappeared. Connor was running his fingers along the frayed edges of a newspaper lying next to his saucer. Just like the night Oliver had last seen him, his shoulders were hunched and his hair uncharacteristically tousled. He hadn’t even used hair gel.

Clearing his throat, Connor looked up. “So. How are you? How’s work?”

“Pretty well. We’re working on a new project, so everyone’s really busy. What about you?”

“Classes are fine. Annalise has taken on a new client on Monday. A priest accused of murdering another priest.”

Oliver nodded. Asher had told him all about it already.

Clenching and unclenching his hands beneath the tabletop, he looked around in search of something to say. Not even half of the tables in the room were taken. A father was reprimanding his daughter for smearing chocolate cream into her long pigtails to their right. There was a middle-aged man in a suit typing away on his laptop in the back. The waitress was popping gum while restocking the display with blueberry muffins. None of them seemed to notice the tension surrounding him and Connor, but it felt almost suffocating to Oliver.

This wasn’t working at all.

“Why don’t we skip the small talk and cut right to the chase?” he suggested softly.

Visibly steeling himself, Connor inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry I hooked up with Paxton. I wish I could take it back.”

Oliver smiled sadly. “But isn’t that what you always do? Keeping people around as long as they’re useful and dumping them afterwards?”

“I – yeah. That’s what I usually do. But you’re different,” he added urgently. “I didn’t even realize it until after you’d thrown me out.”

Oliver nearly snorted, but caught himself at the last moment. There was nothing special about him, he was just an average guy. Why should he of all people be an exception?

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“I tried to get over you with I don’t know how many guys,” Connor laughed hollowly, “but it didn’t work. Never happened before.”

Averting his eyes, Oliver hoped Connor wouldn’t notice how much that had hurt. Right. Who knew how many guys Connor had been with since their fight?

“I don’t know why I slept with him, to be honest. To prove I don’t give a fuck? It didn’t even cross my mind how much I would hurt your feelings. I was acting like a… Like a…”

Thinking back to what Asher had said, Oliver filled in helpfully, “Selfish dick.”

“Yeah.” Connor ducked his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked absolutely miserable.

Oliver felt an unexpected impulse to reach out and comfort him. Only a week ago he would have suppressed that instinct with all his might. He’d finally realized something that had never crossed his mind before though.

“You’re not the only one to blame here.”

Connor looked up, eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“We didn’t say we were exclusive. I was afraid you’d laugh at me, so I never brought it up.”

He had come to this conclusion after lying awake for hours the night before. Pretending they had been on the same page had been easier even if he hadn’t really believed it himself.

“You had _every_ right to be angry, Oliver,” Connor frowned. “Don’t defend me.”

“You shouldn’t have cheated, obviously. But things wouldn’t have gotten this messy if we’d talked about it. Instead I just slammed the door in your face. Twice.”

“And don’t you dare apologize for that,” Connor said determinedly.

Oliver smiled weakly. “Wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

Silence. Oliver still felt his heart beating in his throat, but at least his hands weren’t clammy anymore. Connor was staring into his cup as though it held the answers to all questions of the universe while picking at the edges of the newspaper again. Oliver’s coffee arrived. Grabbing his tea spoon, he slowly stirred in some milk. He hadn’t even noticed the pigtail girl and her father had left, but their table was empty now.

“Where are we going from here?” Connor asked eventually.

“I don’t know,” Oliver replied honestly and sighed.

“Do you want to try this again?”

“I have no idea. I really cared about you, you know? But now I’m just scared shitless this will blow up in my face again.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together a second time. He was a moth and Connor a lit candle in a dark room – bright but also hot and possibly fatal. Why was it so damn hard to stay away?

Connor’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Something like that can _never_ happen again,” Oliver said firmly. His knuckles hurt from how hard he was clutching his spoon.

“I swear it won’t,” Connor replied immediately and leaned forward. “We can do things your way this time around. Really getting to know each other. Going on dates, learning each other’s coffee order and stuff. I’ll introduce you to my parents and sister. Anything you want.”

“Anything _I_ want?” Oliver felt this conversation going in the wrong direction again.

“I - I want that too.”

There was nothing but honesty in his eyes. Maybe a tad bit of fear. Oliver knew with sudden certainty he’d regret it one day if he didn’t give this another shot now. He had to take the risk and hope everything would turn out okay.

Letting out a shaky breath, he put the spoon down. “Alright.”

Connor looked stunned. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

The hard lines of Connor’s jaw softened as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, showing teeth. Eyes shining, he laughed. Not a smirk, but a genuine laugh. Heart stuttering in his chest, Oliver realized he’d never seen him this happy or open before.

He smiled back tentatively.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this because I keep getting lovely comments by people who want to know what the hell happened to this story and whether it's ever going to be finished. So, this is for all of you.  
> This is what is written of the last chapter. One short scene is missing, but everything else is pretty much how I've always envisioned the story to end. It's completely unbeta'd and all faults are mine. Considering English isn't my mother tongue there are probably plenty, so don't say I haven't warned you.  
> It's not perfect by any means, but it should answer the most pressing questions. It's is the best I can do at this point and I'm sorry I wasn't able to finish this properly.  
> Thank you all very much for your enthusiasm and support.

 

 

 

The doorbell rang.

Groaning, Oliver turned around and looked at his alarm clock. Who was up at 8 am on a Sunday?

It rang again.

Prying Connor’s arm off his chest carefully, Oliver got up. Connor grunted, pulled Oliver’s pillow against his chest and slept on. A warm feeling washed through Oliver’s stomach at the sight. Boyfriends. They’d made up over a week ago now and nothing had gone wrong so far. He was slowly getting used to having Connor back in his life.

He startled as the doorbell rang a third time and hurried to his front door.

It was Asher. Blinking owlishly, Oliver scanned the hideous apron he was wearing. It was bright yellow with _hot stuff coming through_ printed on it in bold black letters.

“This thing is amazing, right?” Asher pointed at his chest excitedly. “Found it online the other day and knew at once it was perfect for me.” Putting a hand on his hip, he popped his ass out to one side and made a duck face. “See, Ollie?”

Oliver suppressed a moan, but only barely. He couldn’t deal with this before the first cup of coffee. “You look like a giant rubber duck,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Asher looked scandalized. “Excuse me? I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No offence, but I won’t take fashion advice from _you_ , Mr. Harry Potter Glasses.” He stuck his tongue out.

Oliver rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “The glasses again? You need to come up with something else, this is getting old.”

Asher’s whole face lit up. “ _Yes_ , Ollie! Look who’s in a sassy mood this morning! I’m so proud of you, man.” Leaning forward, he raised his fist.

Oliver arched one eyebrow. “What did we discuss?”

“Yeah, I know – no fist bumps,” Asher let his hand sink, but didn’t seem too disappointed. “Whatever, you’re my favorite thing right now anyway.”

“If you break out into a Julie Andrews song I’ll slam this door in your face,” Oliver threatened. “What do you want this early in the morning?”

“Oh, right. There’s a lady staying over and I wanna make pancakes. My milk’s gone sour, so –“

“Doucheface?” a third voice sounded suddenly from behind Oliver’s back. He closed his eyes. Crap. Connor must have woken up and heard them talking.

Asher frowned in confusion after his eyes had found Connor. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Spending the night with my boyfriend,” Connor said defensively and, stepping closer, put an arm around Oliver’s waist. “What are you –“

“No way!” Asher’s mouth fell open in shock. “You were pining after Ollie the whole time?”

“I wasn’t _pining_ after anyone. What the hell is going on? You two know each other?” Connor asked Oliver. Before he could say a single word, Asher was already talking again.

“We’re neighbors, yo. I can’t believe my Ollie is your Hacker Boy.”

“Stop calling him Ollie, he hates that.”

Asher’s head whipped around and he looked at Oliver. “You do?”

“Yeah, he does. Tell him!”

Oliver needed to get the situation under control right now or this was going to end in disaster. Clearing his throat, he turned to Asher. “It’s okay. I got used to it after the first few weeks. Why don’t we all sit down and –“

“ _What_?” Connor took a step back and put one hand on his hip. “He,” he pointed at Asher, “is allowed to call you Ollie and I’m not?”

So much to getting this under control.

“Did you know about this?” Asher asked Oliver, completely ignoring Connor now. “Of course you did! I talk about work all –“

“You always stare daggers at me when I try, but Doucheface of all people –“

“Why didn’t you tell me, man?”

“Wait, do you _like_ this idiot?”

“So it’s Connor who broke your heart before Francis?”

“You can’t be serious, he’s a moron.”

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Glaring at Connor, Asher stepped over the threshold. “I can totally kick his ass if-“

Alarmed, Oliver grabbed Asher’s arm to hold him back.

“GUYS!” he yelled and both of them shut up immediately, thank god. “Can you calm down, please?”

Crossing his living room quickly, Oliver fetched a box of milk from the fridge, returned to his front door and shoved it in Asher’s chest. “Good luck with the pancakes. I’ll see you tomorrow for Movie Monday, okay?”

Before Asher could reply, Oliver had already shut the door in his face. Taking a deep breath, he turned around slowly and looked at Connor. His boyfriend was staring at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“You told me yesterday you have to stay late at work tomorrow.”

“I – yeah. I lied about that. Sorry.” Oliver scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. Damn it. He hadn’t wanted them to find out like this.

Scoffing, Connor stalked over to the couch and threw himself down. “Care to elaborate?”

“There’s not much to explain, really.” Oliver started pacing up and down in front of his TV set. “Asher moved in last August and it took a while, but we’re friends now. I lied about tomorrow because I know you two don’t get along very well.”

He had spent enough time with Asher and Connor to know they didn’t like each other. He’d hoped to keep the secret just a bit longer until he’d come up with a way to convince them otherwise.

“I hate Asher,” Connor complained promptly. “He’s childish and dumb –“

“He’s not dumb,” Oliver said firmly. “Come on, you don’t mean that. He got into Middleton just like the rest of you. He works for Annalise!”

Connor snorted. “Right. He only got the job because his father is a judge.” Sitting up straighter, Connor challenged, “Did you know Daddy Millstone sent an innocent man to jail to get promoted?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Connor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Asher feels terrible about that. And Annalise would never have hired him if he was stupid, with or without influential relatives.”

“Fine,” Connor relented sourly and plopped back against the backrest. “Maybe you’re right. But you can’t deny he’s ridiculous.”

Oliver hadn’t bothered explaining this to Francis, but he needed Connor to understand. After sitting down next to him, Oliver took Connor’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Asher’s a bit odd, yes.” Smiling, Oliver thought of the new apron. “And you have to get used to him. Underneath that he’s a good guy, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Connor replied dismissively.

“He helped me through a rough couple of weeks and made me laugh on days I felt like shit. You could give him a chance for my sake?” Oliver suggested innocently and pulled his shoulders up.

Connor opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t say a single word. Oliver kissed his temple and stood up, happy that he wasn’t scowling anymore at least. “I’ll get started on breakfast.”

Oliver felt warm arms wrap around him when he was frying eggs a few minutes later. “I can call you Ollie from now on, right?” Connor murmured into the back of this neck.

“Yes,” he replied and leaned into Connor’s chest.

 

~~~

 

“… he’s selfish and arrogant and he fucks _everyone_. Not sure he knows what a healthy relationship even is,” Asher closed his rant stubbornly and sat down at Oliver’s kitchen counter.

Sighing, Oliver took another plate from the dish rag and started drying it. This was going to be much more difficult than he’d thought. He looked longingly at the DVD box of season four of Game of Thrones they’d wanted to start that night. It lay on the coffee table, completely forgotten.

“I really don’t need to justify my relationship to you.”

“No, of course not.” Asher visibly deflated. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Oliver tried to fight off the headache he felt coming. “This is exactly what Francis used to say. I can make my own decisions, you know?”

“Well, I remember the days after Mr. Biceps dumped you. You were devastated.”

“I know. But this is going to be different. Connor and I sat down and really talked about what went wrong last time and why. It all started as a hook-up and I was stupid to expect a functional relationship coming out of it, really.” Oliver was wiping the plate in his hands over and over. “I only agreed to this again because we’re definitely exclusive now.”

“If you say so…” Asher trailed off skeptically.

“Why are you suddenly against it?” Oliver asked. “You told me Connor seemed really upset about the whole affair only two weeks ago.”

Asher threw his hands up. “Didn’t know we were talking about _you_ the whole time! You bring your neighbors freakin’ cake when they’re upset, man. Who in their right mind would ever cheat on you? Just proves he’s an idiot, yo.”

Smiling sheepishly at the compliment, Oliver put the dish towel down on the counter next to him.

“Look,” he said softly. “I won’t force you to spend time together. Nothing’s going to change. I just don’t want the two of you to rip each other’s heads off when you meet in the hallway. Think you can do that?”

After a moment of silence Asher groaned. “I can _try_ , I guess. Just for the record though, I still don’t trust him. If he hurts you again I’ll… I’ll…“

Snorting, Oliver turned around to put the plate in his usual spot in the cupboard above the sink.

“Don’t laugh, bro. I’ll think of something.”

 

~~~

 

His co-workers burst into laughter, so Oliver took another few steps away from the smoking area in front of his company’s building. Pressing his phone tighter to his ear, he concentrated back on Connor’s voice.

“I tell you, Doucheface is unbearable today. He just said he’ll hack into my Humpr account and change the profile pic to his grandpa if I cheat on you again.”

Oliver laughed.

“Not funny, Ollie,” Connor huffed. “Everyone was there, even Annalise! And he has no idea how to hack into anything anyway, that’s your job.”

Burying his free hand deeper in his coat pocket, Oliver looked up at the thick blanket of clouds. Asher seemed determined to aggravate Connor every chance he got these days. Maybe Oliver should talk to him again, but he had an inkling it wouldn’t make much of a difference. He knew Asher only meant well and would let it go eventually.

“Just ignore him,” he advised his boyfriend.

“Can I punch him? Please let me punch him,” Connor whined. “I can’t stand his face right now.”

“Why is this getting to you so much?” After coming up with a snarky remark of his own, Connor usually let bickering like this go.

“Michaela hasn’t talked about anything else than the _importance of fidelity_ ,“ Connor imitated her in a high-pitched voice, “the whole morning. Frank keeps giving me these strange looks. Frank! Can you fucking believe it?” Connor sighed and continued in a much more vulnerable tone, “It’s just… I’m trying to be good for once and all this crap isn’t helping.”

Oliver believed him. Connor had his own tooth brush at Oliver’s place now. He knew Oliver couldn’t eat anything containing peanuts, because he was allergic, and remembered to step over the loose floor board in Oliver’s bed room when he got up at night to pee. His sister Gemma was going to be in town next month and they were having dinner with her. There was no doubt anymore – Connor was serious about their relationship this time.

“I know,” Oliver answered steadily. “Asher’s just protective. He’ll get over it.”

“You know the worst part? I can’t even blame him for that.”

 

~~~

 

Oliver left the elevator and made his way towards his apartment when he noticed the short, blonde woman coming his way. Behind her, Asher was standing in his own doorway, a small smile playing around his lips. Oliver looked from one to the other.

“What are you staring at?” demanded the stranger as she passed him. Scowling and without waiting for a reply, she disappeared into the elevator. Oliver turned to Asher, dumbstruck.

“Who was that?”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “A lady friend, yo.”

“She… didn’t look too happy, to be honest,” Oliver said hesitantly.

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s only tough on the outside and I don’t blame her. AK is always on her case about something.”

So she was from Asher and Connor’s workplace. Something stirred in the back of Oliver’s mind.

“Wait, was that Bonnie?”

“How do you even –“ Asher’s eyes widened in realization, making him look like a deer caught in headlight. “Shit. You can’t tell Connor! I don’t want them to know about this,” Asher implored and took a step closer to Oliver.

“I promise I won’t.” Oliver smiled reassuringly. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Connor would probably have a field day if he knew Asher was sleeping with one of their co-workers.

Asher sighed in relief. “Thanks. I don’t know what this,” he gestured towards the elevator, “is yet, you know?”

Remembering the morning Asher had wanted some milk, Oliver asked, “Is she the one you made pancakes for the other day?”

Puffing his chest out in pride, he winked. “She loved them, of course. What can I say? The ladies think everything I do is awesome, can’t help it.”

Oliver was about to roll his eyes, when he caught a whiff of Connor’s cologne before a hand was placed on his shoulder. “Who loves your pancakes, Doucheface?”

Asher’s face turned white. “No one,” he and Oliver said together.

Turning around, the first thing Oliver saw was Connor’s suspicious expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, absolutely no one,” Asher repeated forcefully while standing up straighter. “And you need to stop listening in on our conversations, yo. It’s getting creepy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Connor retorted.

“Well, _someone_ needs to keep an eye on you, Casanova.”

Scoffing, Connor shook his head. “Whatever. Not here for you anyway.” Leaning in, he gently kissed Oliver’s lips. “Hi.”

Oliver smiled back. “Hi. Good to see you.”

“Watching you two making goo-goo eyes at each other makes me sick, yo. You’re totally going to start shagging in two minutes, aren’t you?”

Oliver could tell Asher was only joking from his smirk and the way his eyebrow was arched, but Connor let his forehead fall against Oliver’s shoulder in exasperation and groaned. This was enough, Oliver decided.

“Since when is our sex life any of your business?” he shot back.

Tilting his head to one side, Asher searched Oliver’s face. “Why aren’t you blushing, Ollie?”

“I’ve decided to just ignore every single crude comment that comes out of your mouth. You’re all bark and no bite anyway.”

“Objection, Mr. Hampton!” Asher exclaimed in mock anger.

Holding his gaze, Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Denied.”

Asher whistled. “I’m impressed, man,” he said while nudging his shoulder approvingly.

“Believe it or not, I do watch court TV sometimes.” Following a sudden hunch, Oliver added, ”And I would cut Connor some slack if I were you. I have blackmail material on you now, haven’t I?”

Asher took a step back, eyes round as saucers. “No way! You’d never do that.”

“Wanna bet?” Oliver challenged and raised his eyebrows. “I won’t tell anyone if you take it down a notch.” This was perfect, he thought giddily. Maybe Asher would finally stop pestering Connor now.

Sputtering, Asher’s gaze moved from Oliver to Connor and back again. “Deal,” he said after a brief moment of hesitation. “But you’re starting to scare me, man.”

“Wonderful. See you around then,” Oliver drawled and turned around to Connor, beaming triumphantly. There was an expression of utter surprise on his boyfriend’s face and he didn’t say a single a word until Oliver had dragged him into his own apartment and shut the door behind them.

“You – you got him to shut up,” he said while taking off his scarf, eyes wide in amazement. “How the _hell_ did you do that?”

Oliver laughed. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Humming in agreement, Connor put his coat next to Oliver’s on the clothes rag. “Are you going to tell me what the blackmail material is?” he asked hopefully.

“No.”

Connor’s whole demeanor changed instantly. Pouting, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Please, Ollie,” he moaned. “You’ve seen what I have to deal with all the time right now.” He nodded towards the wall separating Oliver’s from Asher’s apartment. “Would be nice to have an advantage over _him_ for a change.”

Oliver raised his hands helplessly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made a promise.”

Connor turned away, obviously disgruntled.

“But,” Oliver continued with sparkling eyes, “I’m sure I can think of something to make it up to you.”

Stepping into Connor’s personal space, Oliver crowded him against the wall and began to mouth at his neck.

 

~~~

 

Oliver took in the shelves of DVDs all around him while running his fingers along a row of brightly colored cases within his reach. He and Asher had finished the fourth season of Game of Thrones two days ago and were looking for a new show in the Best Buy a few subway stations down their apartment building.

His eyes had just caught on The Good Wife when Asher’s voice sounded from the next aisle.

“Yo, Ollie! I’ve found something.”

Asher appeared from behind a shelf nearby and, brandishing a white DVD case, hurried towards him. Smiling proudly, he shoved it in Oliver’s face.

“The IT Crowd,” Oliver read the orange letters on the cover out loud before looking up with a frown. “Never heard of it.”

“Me neither, but it has to be perfect for you, man.”

“Because I’m a nerd?” Oliver asked dryly.

“Yeah, man.”

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Oliver turned around to grab season one of The Good Wife. “We should take something home for you too, then, Mr. Law School.”

Asher took the case out of Oliver’s hand and studied it carefully. “Isn’t this the one about that badass lady lawyer?” he asked slowly.

Oliver nodded as Asher tucked the DVD under his arm. “Awesome. I’ll take it home for Bonnie, she’s going to love it.”

“How’s it going with the two of you?” Oliver asked cautiously.

Asher hadn’t mentioned her again and Oliver wasn’t sure whether his friend was comfortable talking about it. He shouldn’t have worried though. Asher pressed his lips together to hide it, but there was no mistaking the pleased smile that appeared on his face immediately.

“Pretty well. We haven’t talked about it yet, but maybe we have a real chance, you know?” Hesitating, Asher cleared his throat. “I care about her a lot.”

“Happy to hear it.” Oliver nudged his side playfully before turning back towards the shelf to continue browsing its contents.

 

“Need anything else?” Asher asked him as they stepped onto the sidewalk and into the fickle February sun a few minutes later.

Nodding, Oliver gestured at the newsstand across the street. “Today’s newspaper,” he said and started towards the nearest traffic lights.

“Okay…” Asher trailed off and shot him a confused look. “Why do you pay money for news reports? Ever heard of the Internet? Or, you know, _television_?”

Laughing, Oliver came to a halt in front of the red pedestrian lights. “Oh no, I’m buying it for the crosswords. We love doing them in the morning.”

“You and Connor?” Asher asked slowly.

Bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet impatiently, Oliver hummed in confirmation.

“The C-Dog does the crosswords while slurping his first cup of coffee? Wow, that’s… unexpectedly domestic.” His face split into a triumphant grin that lit up his whole face. “Any more gossip you wanna share?”

“C-Dog?” Oliver repeated skeptically and pulled a face. “That’s a horrible nickname, even for your standards, Ash. Sounds like a crappy rapper.”

Ignoring him, Asher shook his finger in front of his face. “No, no, no, don’t even _try_ to change the subject. Just give me some gossip, yo. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He winked conspiratorially.

Oliver snorted. “Sure.”

Asher was persistent, of course. “Hm. He snores like a lumberjack?”

Oliver shook his head. In fact, Connor had told him yesterday _he_ was snoring. Oliver still refused to believe it, no matter how many times Connor had assured him it was endearing rather than annoying.

“He drools in his sleep,” Asher tried again.

The traffic lights had finally changed and Oliver hurried onto the street, throwing a disbelieving look back at Asher. “Nope.”

“He sleeps in Superman PJs.”

“ _What_?” Oliver burst out laughing and turned around completely this time as soon as he had reached the sidewalk. “No!”

Asher scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s way too grumpy to be into Superman. But Batman?”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Oliver led the way into the newsstand. He was browsing the selection of daily newspapers when he spoke again.

“You giving Connor a nickname means you’ve finally let him off the hook though, right?”

Pouting, Asher shot him a dirty look. “Well, apart from the fact you’re still blackmailing me, man –“

“Don’t complain about it,” Oliver interrupted immediately. “You’ve brought that on yourself.”

Asher stuck his tongue out before slumping his shoulders. “Connor has stopped sulking at work now, I give you that. And you know how your eyes always become squinty when you’re really happy? They’re squinty all the time now. So, yeah. I’ll go with it. Maybe I was too hard on him at first.”

Oliver grabbed the Daily Prophet and, facing Asher, smiled sheepishly.

“It was nice to know someone cared enough to have a word with him about it, to be honest.” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t tell you he was the guy before Francis because I thought you’d laugh at me. For - for getting my hopes up and believing he’d stay.”

“No, I totally get he’s hard to resist. I’d probably do that sweet ass myself if I were gay. Come here, man.”

Before Oliver knew what was happening, Asher had stepped closer and wrapped him up in a tight hug. Oliver’s arms were pinned to his sides, the newspaper got crumpled between them and the frame of his glasses dug into his temple. Feeling a rush of relief, he patted Asher’s back as best as he could anyway.

 

~~~

 

[Short scene in which Connor learns Asher and Bonnie are a thing. He gleefully enjoys the gossip, of course, until Ollie tells him to pull himself together.]

 

~~~

 

Oliver’s doorbell rang. He looked at Connor who was sitting on his couch across from him, but his boyfriend didn’t even seem to have registered the sound. His head was still buried in the large text book lying across his lap.

Oliver made his way over to the front door and wasn’t surprised to find an exhausted-looking Asher on his threshold. Clothes rumpled and eyes encircled by dark shadows, Asher looked close to dropping down right there and then. Blinking owlishly at Oliver, he wordlessly gestured towards Connor. Oliver nodded and stepped aside to let him pass.

“Can I have the dancer’s phone records for a minute, yo?” Asher asked Connor in a hoarse voice and came to a stop in front of the couch table.

Connor looked up from the text he’d been studying for the last ten minutes. “Phone records? Sure…,” he murmured absent-mindedly and pulled a sheet of paper out of a pile of documents scattered on the couch next to him. “Bring them back when you’re done.”

“Will do, thanks.” Yawning, Asher stared at the records bleary-eyed.

Oliver frowned.

“Do you want a cup of coffee? We’ve just brewed a fresh pot for Connor.” Not even waiting for an answer, he headed into his kitchen and pulled another cup out of the cabinet above the sink.

Asher accepted the hot drink thankfully and sat down next to Connor.

Oliver’s gaze travelled from Asher’s messed up hair to Connor’s slumped figure. Deciding they were too worn out to start fighting again, he settled back down in the comfortable chair across from his couch.

Asher huffed in annoyance. “Can’t believe we’ve been working this case for over a week now and still haven’t found anything. Maybe a ghost murdered her.”

“Yeah, I’m sick of it too.” Sighing, Connor threw the text book on the floor. “This is useless. I’m calling it a night.” He started to rummage through the pile of folders on the coffee table. “Maybe one of the others has found something. Haven’t checked my phone in hours.”

“No, man. I’ve just talked to Bonnie. Nothing.”

Holding his breath, Oliver watched Connor warily. But his boyfriend only groaned and let his head thump against the backrest in defeat. At that the moment a phone started to vibrate. After jumping visibly, Connor restarted looking for his phone.

“Maybe they’ve found something now! Where is it, where is it?”

“It’s Ollie’s, yo.” Picking it up from a side table, Asher glanced at the display and faltered. “Francis is calling.”

Francis? What could he want? Leaning forwards, Oliver stretched his hand out for his phone, but Asher cradled it against his chest.

“Who’s Francis?” Connor asked.

“Ollie’s ex,” Asher answered distractedly while looking at Oliver with squinted eyes.

Connor sat up straighter. “The one with the biceps?”

Asher was still holding Oliver’s eye. “Can I tell him what an asshole he is?” he asked and nodded at the phone vibrating in his hand.

“No, I want to do that.” Leaning across the couch, Connor was trying to get a hold of the phone himself now.

“What? No,” Asher said and held the phone higher.

“I’m Ollie’s boyfriend!”

“I’m his friend and I was there before you.”

Standing up, Oliver snatched the phone out of Asher’s hand and hit decline with a flourish. “No one is telling him anything, guys.” Raising one eyebrow, he looked at the two – Connor was nearly sitting in Asher’s lap now. “Really?”

Clearing his throat, Connor skidded back to his side of the couch. “What did Mr. Biceps want?”

“Hey! That’s _my_ name for him, don’t you dare steal it,” Asher exclaimed and, grabbing a pencil from the table, chucked it at Connor.

“Will you stop it?” Connor protested while holding up his arms for protection. The pencil bounced off his forearm and landed on the floor. He picked it up and stuck it behind his ear. ”I’m calling him like that in my head as well,” he said grumpily.

“Mr. Biceps? Really?” Asher asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, well, it’s the first thing you notice when you look at him. Although,” Connor glanced at Oliver who was watching the scene in amusement, “he has taken it too far. There _is_ such a thing as working out too much, right, Ollie?”

“I completely agree with you,” Asher said. “His ego was just as big as his muscles. You’re lucky he’s gone, yo.”

“And who is called Francis? That’s a terrible name,” Connor added.

Asher nodded. “Totally. No surprise he was a pretentious moron.” A beat of silence. “And did you know the ex he ran back to was an underwear model?”

Connor’s eyes widened in surprise. “No. Oh god, what a cliché.”

“I know. Can you imagine Ollie introducing him to his parents? This is my boyfriend, the underwear model.”

Oliver started laughing. “Guys, I won’t call him again. You can stop convincing me now.”

Beaming, Asher picked up the phone records and got to his feet. “Glad that’s settled, yo.” He turned to Connor and, after hesitating a second, asked: “Why don’t we meet in front of the elevator tomorrow at 8 and go to Torts together?”

Oliver froze and prepared for the explosion. But Connor just smiled up at Asher. “Sure, why not?” he replied easily.

Asher watched Connor carefully while raising his fist. “See you tomorrow, then?”

Snickering, Connor balled up his own hand and met Asher’s halfway. “Tomorrow.”

“Ha!” Asher cried out triumphantly and faced Oliver. “I _told_ you, fist bumps are awesome! Ask your boyfriend.”

“What are you talking about? Ollie doesn’t like fist bumps?” Connor frowned at Oliver, who just rolled his eyes and picked up Asher’s coffee mug.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him either, man,” Asher sighed. “Anyway,” he stretched out his arms in welcome and beamed at Connor, “you’re the newest member of the Rainbow Coalition, bro.”

Warmth settled in Oliver’s gut while he put the mug down next to his sink.

“Thanks, I guess. Wait,” Connor squinted suspiciously. “What’s Rainbow Coalition?”

“It’s this great thing I’ve come up with.“ Asher sat down next to Connor again. “One day I wanted to watch some DVDs with Ollie and –“

Grabbing another bag of crisps from the snack shelf, Oliver turned around to listen to Asher’s story. This was going to be interesting.

 

 

 

 


End file.
